


Echoes

by MuscleMemory



Series: You Call And I Respond, The Sparrow And The Song [18]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuscleMemory/pseuds/MuscleMemory
Summary: Magnus angst and Malec love.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hikaru9Yume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikaru9Yume/gifts).



> Small birthday gift for a dear friend <3

He’s been staring out into the night sky over Brooklyn, snow falling, first soft, tiny snowflakes, transforming over time into a heavy snow curtain, sometimes disrupted by an icy wind.

The rooftops are covered in white, as are the streets below, but he hasn’t even noticed, not having truly looked in a while, something inside his mind taking a hold of him.

It’s been a long week of busy days, sometimes busier nights, and not pleasantly so. And on top of meetings, satisfying clients, and arguing warlock and downworlder business, _they_ returned. He probably should have expected them, seeing as they love to slip through whenever he’s too stressed or vulnerable to notice, then nest inside him, feeding off of his weakened energy.

The echoes of his memories, haunting him through every lifetime.

He drowned them in alcohol, in lavish parties, in music and dance, laughter and sex. Sometimes he just let them be, staying inside for days, hiding from everyone and everything, hoping they’d leave him eventually when they realized he wasn’t fighting them.

They always leave.

They always come back.

Sometimes it only takes a familiar face, a resemblance to a long forgotten lover who tragically died. Sometimes it’s a smell, the taste of figs, of a particular bottle of wine from the 18th century, and they take him back, willing or not, and sometimes they’re gentle with him, but always painful, and sometimes they’re brutal like a spiked dagger plunged into his chest, twisting and twisting until he gasps and stumbles from the agony.

Sometimes he’s crying and screaming out in his sleep. A forgotten name, a spell he’d needed decades ago.

Sometimes he becomes numb, shutting himself away so tightly he may never come back, never quite the same. And sometimes he doesn’t even care.

Often, it’s his magic, humming beneath his skin, in his blood, wanting him to move, to come to life and play, or fight, create or heal or kill. It doesn’t care, he decides.

Sometimes it’s a friendly face, green skin and horns, hands cupping his cheeks, words spoken in comfort. Or a soft smile and dark eyes, a healing spell to help his shredded heart, warm, caring fingers wiping away his tears. And sometimes he can shake himself out of it before it comes to any of that.

Tonight, he wanted to see him. Just see the smile on his face, the shine in his eyes, hear his voice and feel his embrace, bury his face in his neck and just breathe again. That’s all he wanted, but he’s on a mission, having had a stressful week himself, and he won’t see him tonight.

He doesn’t know what did it, but something snapped him out of it. He frowns at the snow covered city before him, down at his whiskey glass, the brown liquid half frozen, as are his fingers, his face, and half of his body. Numb. If only his heart and mind were the same.

He moves his hand to unfreeze the alcohol, changing his mind, magicking away the drink, not wanting it anymore, and turns to head inside to find something to occupy his darkness with, silence the echoes or he won’t get any sleep this night.

The clock strikes midnight and he freezes as footsteps sound from inside, light flooding the living-room. His deep frown disappears as his face relaxes in surprise, and he rushes past the terrace doors, magicking them shut behind him, halting mid-step as he comes face to face with Alexander, still dressed in demon hunting gear, his bow and quiver neatly stacked on the rack, his beautiful face laced with fatigue, his hazel eyes questioning, lighting up with his smile.

“Have you been outside? It’s freezing.”

Magnus doesn’t know how, but he finds himself laughing softly, taking the few steps to reach him, his eager body caught in Alec’s arms wrapping around him, his nose pushing into Alec’s neck, feeling the other man shiver.

“You’re colder than me.”

Magnus can only smile at Alec’s murmur, snapping his hand to magic a blanket of blue heat around them, warming them both within seconds.

“Better?”

“Mmmm, much. Missed you. Jace sent me home when he heard you’re back. He says if a demon eats him we better put up a statue of him to remember his heroic deeds by forever.”

Magnus hears the smile in Alec’s voice, and can’t but smile, as well, feeling rather grateful. “He’s not getting a statue, but should he come by needing a favor I won’t shut the door in his face, how’s that sound?”

“Fair enough.”

Magnus feels Alec’s hand caressing the back of his head and moves back to look at him, their eyes locking.

“Are you okay?”

The ever present, ever surprising concern is back in his eyes and voice, unable to stop caring about those he loves, and Magnus knows how reverently he is loved by him.

“I will be, as long as you’ll stay right here with me.” He can’t help the hopeful plea in his eyes, relief pouring into his every cell when Alec nods.

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus.”

To seal his promise he lifts Magnus’ chin gently, cradles his jaw and captures his lips in a loving, ardent, unhurried kiss that melts away the last trace of coldness inside him, no more having to dread the night, knowing he’ll be safe in the arms of the man he loves more than anything.

 

 


End file.
